Page 145 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
She does. I slide it across her tongue, slow and filthy, then pull it away and trace it down her collarbone. Down her sternum. Down between her thighs.
She shivers when it hits her entrance.
“Stay quiet for me.”
Then I slide it inside.
Her gasp is stifled, but her back arches. Hands grip the armrests. She’s flushed all over.
“You feel that?” I murmur, dragging the stick in and out, lazy and cruel. “That’s what you get for teasing me with that fucking dress. You wanted to play brat? You’re going to come like one.”
Her hips buck. She’s close.
But I’m not done.
I slowly slide the swizzle stick out of her, watching her walls cling to it, still desperate for more. She’s glistening, pulsing, so fucking wet I could probably make her come again with my fingers alone—but I have other plans.
I lift the stick to my mouth and suck it clean.
Her taste hits me like sin.
Eyes wide, lips parted, she watches me like she’s not sure if she wants to slap me or beg for more. Probably both. Good. I want her right on that line.
“Still with me?” I ask.
She nods, glassy-eyed. Barely there. Beautiful like this—wrecked, unraveled, pliant.
I shift, one arm sliding behind her back, pulling her toward me as I reach down to unbuckle my pants. My cock springs free, already hard, leaking at the tip.
“You’re gonna take me, sweetheart. All of me.”
She doesn’t argue.
Doesn’t hesitate.
She leans into my chest, her breasts pressed tight against my ribs. I guide her hips, lining her up, and then—slowly, so fucking slowly—I slide her down onto me.
Her pussy parts for me like she was made to fit there.
Every inch I push inside earns a sound from her throat—a choked moan, a gasp, a helpless sigh that makes my cock twitch.
She lowers inch by inch until she’s seated fully, her ass pressed to my thighs, her skin flush against my balls.
Fuck.
My voice is ragged when I growl, “There she is. My good girl. Taking all of me like you were fucking born for it.”
She shivers in my arms, head tilted back onto my shoulder. I kiss the underside of her jaw. Her lashes flutter closed. Her fingers trail down between her legs.
“Go on,” I whisper. “Touch that clit. Let me feel you tighten around me while you make yourself come.”
She obeys, rubbing soft, fast circles against herself, whining when I shift my hips and thrust up just a little. Not hard. Not fast. Just enough to tease.
She’s so wet I can feel her slide over me with every rock of her hips.
I grip her thighs and open her wider. Spread her until she’s vulnerable and completely mine. Her legs shake around me, and she cries out again, a desperate sound muffled by my name on her lips.
I thrust again—deeper now, dragging my cock in and out, watching her fall apart piece by piece.
